


Piece By Piece

by thanku4urlove



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Arson, Descriptions of Corpses, Dismemberment, Gen, Gun Violence, Inoo's internal dialogue is not very nice, M/M, Murder, Vague mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 08:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanku4urlove/pseuds/thanku4urlove
Summary: Inoo was tired of wasting his time, dating around and waiting for the perfect man to come along and sweep him off his feet. It didn't take him long to realize his problem: the perfect man didn't exist. Inoo would have to create him himself.





	Piece By Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags. This fic is gross. Written for Halloween in 2014, posted to my LJ here: https://thanku4urlove.livejournal.com/2753.html

Inoo had always been told that in a man, brains are more important than looks. Though he understood the philosophy, he could never fully agree with it. Sure, it’s nice if a guy knows what he’s talking about, but when trapped across from someone spouting out scientific facts and mathematical equations, with a face as boring as the words coming out of his mouth, then what’s the point?  
  
Inoo found himself wondering if that criticism was what got him here now, sitting across the table in a cutesy, cozy restaurant from an extremely handsome man that obviously had absolutely no idea what on earth he was talking about.  
  
Takaki Yuya. He was painfully pretty and painfully airheaded, just like every other man Inoo had somehow found himself dating recently. Their first date had gone quite well, if Inoo could gauge the quality by the sex in Takaki’s bed after they’d come home from the movie. Well enough, honestly, for Inoo to call him back and say yes to an adorable dinner date.  
  
So there they were, Takaki's mouth moving, Inoo watching his lips, not listening at all. Dating was so sickeningly dull, and Inoo was tired. He was tired of wasting his time, going on one unsatisfactory first date after another, waiting for the perfect man to appear and sweep him off his feet. Eventually though, he realized he was waiting for nothing. His life wasn't a novel, or shojo manga. The perfect man didn't exist.  
  
That wasn't a problem though, just a complication. It wasn't completely impossible for him to have what he wanted. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. If there wasn't a god interested in giving him the perfect man, if the universe wasn't feeling up to it, then Inoo would create him himself.  
  
“Hey.” Inoo smiled around the prongs of his fork, sliding one foot up Takaki’s leg. It was time to go. “Are you still hungry?”  
  
“Actually,” Takaki pointed to his plate. "I really did want to finish my…” He caught Inoo’s drift embarrassingly slowly, mouth opening and eyes widening. “Yeah. I'm stuffed.”  
  
Inoo resisted the overwhelmingly strong urge to roll his eyes.  
  
“Your place or mine?” Takaki asked as they left, taking Inoo's hand in his own.  
  
“Yours.” Inoo said without hesitation. “I was hoping, maybe...”  
  
“Interested in recreating last weekend? I would definitely be fine with that.” Takaki smiled, over-exaggerating a suggestive tone of voice. Inoo actually rolled his eyes at that, and had to fight Takaki’s lips off his neck the entire ride back in the taxicab. Only when they arrived at Takaki's apartment did Takaki pause, but only for a second, digging his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door, capturing Inoo's mouth with his as he pushed the door open. Takaki stumbled into the dark living room backwards, Inoo taking advantage of his position and tripping his feet up so that he landed on the couch. He slid Takaki’s shirt off immediately, feeling a smile on his neck and a small giggle rising in Takaki’s throat.  
  
He wanted to slip on the gloves in his pocket but Takaki's fingers were fumbling with his own, squeezing his hands. God, this man was clingy. Inoo pulled back, pulling completely away, slightly frustrated. Takaki, seemingly oblivious to his emotions, gave Inoo a dazed smile.  
  
"Kei, I think you're beautiful."  
  
"Thank you." The moment had been enough time, Inoo fumbling for the letter opener that he had seen on the coffee table last time he was here as Takaki brought their lips together again. The blunt device was still there, Inoo picking it up. Takaki was thin enough for the spaces between his ribs to be found without too much difficulty, Inoo quickly deciding on a place and winding his elbow back, ramming the metal between the skin and bone. Takaki gasped against his lips, jerking, reeling back and slamming in to the armrest of the couch. Inoo climbed into his lap, giving himself leverage, striking down again.  
  
The hardest part about killing someone was actually killing them, Inoo discovered. Humans were strong, sturdy things; his arms were sore and tired by the time Takaki had finally stopped moving. Inoo left him there for a few moments, bleeding out, as he retrieved what he needed from the bag he had brought, tossed haphazardly next to the door upon their clumsy entrance.  
  
First came the proper medical tools and Saran wrap, laying Takaki's torso on the stretchy plastic for a clean workspace. As a medical student, Inoo knew what he had to do to remove Takaki’s neck from his shoulders, how to do it cleanly.  
  
That was also a rather exhausting process, Inoo's eyes burning as he carefully wrapped Takaki's head in new plastic wrap, placing it gently in his bag. Then he wiped down everything, stripping Takaki of his outfit and dragging his body safely into his own bedroom. Inoo changed into clean pants and a shirt, folding both his clothes and Takaki's on the couch neatly. Dousing the entire living room in gasoline, Inoo lit a match and dropped it, picking up his bag and leaving. He could hear the building's fire alarm blaring as the taxi sped away.  
  
  
  
  
When Inoo arrived home he set his bag on the couch, retrieving the handsome head and cradling it gently in his arms. He walked into the bedroom he had prepared just for this special arrival, the extra room in his apartment. The furnishing was bare and simple, with just a bed, side table, and lamp in the room. A tarp was placed on the hardwood floor, just like a rug but easier to clean, and everything, including the mattress on the bed, was individually wrapped in plastic wrap.  
  
Inoo placed the head on the top of the mattress, looking at it for a moment. It looked rather lonely, and he knew that it would bother him if he didn't find more things to add by tomorrow night.  
  
Bidding the room a goodnight, Inoo left, turning the thermostat down on his way out. His stomach churned with excitement, the feeling expanding in his body, up into his chest, making him giggle. He let the sound echo around the apartment freely, heading into his bathroom to get in the shower. Before too long, his perfect man would be created. So far, off to a great start.  
  
  
  
  
Cameras flashed through the room as the fire department left, charred and blackened wreckage behind them. Chinen wasn't interested in the ashen shell that used to be the living room, too focused on the body at his feet.  
"This is the apartment of Takaki Yuya, age twenty-four." Yabu began. "He was found when the fire department was called to put out a fire in the living room of his apartment. Cause of death: a punctured lung, and blood loss."  
  
That information surprised Chinen, the young detective looking up at his assistant. "A punctured lung and blood loss?" He echoed.  
  
Yabu looked at the file again, confirming before nodding.  
  
"But..." This man had been decapitated. He was lying on the floor at the foot of his bed, stripped to his underwear. Feet, legs, torso, then nothing. "Was his head removed after he died?"  
  
Yabu nodded again. "The stab wounds in his chest," he began, pointing, "are jagged and sloppy as though occurring during a struggle—which is probably true, considering that’s what killed him—but the cut around his neck is very clean and precise, without any resistance at all."  
  
Chinen knelt, looking closely. He could see what Yabu was talking about.  
  
"The stab wounds were made by a blunt object, but his head was removed with almost surgical precision. It couldn't have been taken off so cleanly while he was still alive."  
  
"Does that mean we're looking for two people?" Yabu asked as Chinen stood. Chinen shook his head.  
  
“Not likely. This was definitely a sentimental crime because the killer took something away from the crime scene, especially something as personal as a part of the victim. However, judging by how careless the stab wounds are, it seems as though the head was the only part of the victim that the killer cared about."  
  
"What kind of suspect are we looking for?" Yabu asked as they left the bedroom. Chinen thought for a moment.  
  
"Anyone with medical training, because they knew what they were doing, as well as anyone and everyone that Takaki Yuya knew. It was someone he is close with, judging by the lack of both self defense wounds and forced entry."  
  
Yabu nodded, scribbling down notes.  
  
"Please give me a copy of the file when you are finished with it Yabu, I would like to look it over in my office."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Chinen nodded to everyone as he left, getting in his car and starting it up. At twenty years old, turning twenty one this year, he was the NPA’s youngest investigator, and this was his first real case. It wasn’t usual for the bureau to give a badge to someone this young, but his scores on exams and proven skills in the field hadn’t left the administrative team at headquarters with many other choices. He had been rather morbidly excited when their division had been called down to a crime scene by the fire department, finally wanting to work, expecting a shooting or a stabbing--nothing this twisted.  
  
What could someone want with a twenty-four year old man’s head?  
  
  
  
  
Every Monday night, there was a man that played guitar and sang at a bar near Inoo's apartment complex. Usually, when he had the time, Inoo would stop by, grab a drink, and watch him play. He wasn't very talented at singing, to be completely honest, voice too soft and gentle for Inoo's own liking, but that wasn't what Inoo was focused on at all. The way his arms held and strummed the guitar was what kept him coming back every week. Tonight, those arms were going to be his.  
  
Inoo came in as usual, wanting to get an early eye on him. He looked the same as he always did, handsome with cat-like eyes and full lips, giving a nervous smile to the crowd before beginning.  
  
Inoo didn't know his name. He had never listened intently enough--or really cared enough--to find out or ask. It simply wasn't important.  
  
Inoo left the bar before the man finished with his hour time slot, going into his car and double-checking his supplies. Fiber wire, gasoline, a change of clothes, scalpel, scissors, bone saw, matches. Then he waited, watching as the singer left the bar through its back door, guitar in a case over his shoulder. The man got in his car, starting it up and exiting the parking lot. Inoo followed.  
  
The man's apartment was in a higher end neighborhood, Inoo parking his car a few parking lots away and walking. It had fallen quite dark, nobody on the streets to see him as he went up a flight of stairs, stopping in front of 206. Inoo was debating on whether he should knock or pick the lock, fiddling with the doorknob carelessly, when the door clicked open. It was unlocked.  
  
What an idiot.  
  
Hearing the television on, Inoo used the noise as his cover, slipping his bag off of his shoulder and pulling out the fiber wire he had brought with him. He wasn't sure that he possessed enough upper body strength to accomplish what he had planned, but if not there was a knife in his bag, ready for use.  
  
The guitarist was sitting on the couch, engaged in a news story. Carefully and quietly, Inoo got behind him, squared his shoulders, lifted his arms, and wrapped the cord swiftly around the man's neck.  
  
The reaction was delayed due to surprise, the man letting out a strangled choking noise, hands flying to his neck. Inoo pulled as hard as he could, using the back of the couch as leverage; the man's head yanked back, his eyes meeting Inoo's. His hands were scrabbling at his neck relentlessly, desperately, but he couldn't get his fingers under the taut wire. After what felt like an eternity of struggling his hands grew weaker, and finally his eyes rolled back and closed, hands falling to his chest.  
  
Inoo pulled for a few more minutes before loosening, unsure if the man was dead or simply unconscious. Inoo removed the wire, having to tug slightly--it had become slightly imbedded in his flesh--and setting it aside, getting out the plastic wrap and laying it down in front of the couch. He dragged the body to the floor--goddamn, this man was heavier than he looked--flexing his sore hands and getting out his tools. Though he was already so tired, he didn't dare make any mistakes. One arm, then the other, removed slowly but precisely. He wrapped them tightly first, placing them down next to the bag, then followed the same process he had done before. Changing clothes, packing up, pouring gasoline, and touching a match to the floor before leaving.  
  
  
  
  
"Due to the bruising on his neck, it looks like asphyxiation, but the real cause of death was blood loss."  
  
Chinen swallowed. "You mean this… This man was still alive when...?"  
  
All he got in response was a grim nod. The police station had gotten a call around midnight. It was from the fire department, as the other call had been--an apartment had been set ablaze with a dead man inside. Forensic cameras were busy at work, though Chinen guessed that fire had destroyed so much that collecting physical evidence would be a long and difficult process.  
  
The body had been identified by one of Chinen's fellow officers as Okamoto Keito, a man who played and sang at a local bar. Though his head was still attached, unlike last time, his arms were completely missing. Yabu glanced through the file again.  
  
"If it makes you feel better, he wasn't conscious when his arms were removed. The incisions are too clean to indicate any struggle or fight. There are deep scratch marks on his neck, but considering the strangulation, they were probably self-inflicted. They're going to check the area for other DNA anyway, though."  
  
Chinen nodded to the information, looking blankly at Okamoto's face as he thought. This was obviously being done by an amateur; the stab wounds on Takaki's body had been so uneven and ineffective, and Okamoto's neck had been pulled on at such an angle that he hadn't even been completely strangled, simply incapacitated. But the incisions near the shoulders on both victims were so careful and steady that the contrast was chilling.  
  
"Chief!" Detective Tsubasa hurried up to them, and it took Chinen a moment to realize that the older man was talking to him. "We found some clothes."  
  
"Clothes?"  
  
"One set of shirt and pair of pants does belong to the victim, but there are two." Tsubasa reported. "We believe the other set belongs to the perpetrator."  
  
"Excellent! This case is all but closed now, isn't it?" Yabu said. Neither Chinen nor Tsubasa shared his enthusiasm.  
  
"They were folded on the couch, but they're almost completely burnt up, as well as drenched with water. It will be difficult to extract evidence from them, if we can get any at all."  
  
"Well," Chinen sighed. "Try to anyway. Are we about ready to go?"  
  
Tsubasa nodded twice, once to the statement and once to answer the question.  
  
"Let's pack up and move out then."  
  
They began to do just that, Chinen watching as Okamoto Keito was placed carefully in a body bag, zipper sliding up and over his ashen face. Aside from the different way the victims had been killed, everything about the crime scenes was the same--so similar that the same perpetrator wouldn't at all be a stretch. He couldn't stop thinking about the things in the scene that weren't there. The fire provided an extreme lack of useful evidence. Even the body had been wiped down cleanly, reducing the amount of blood and the chance of fingerprints. No head. No arms.  
  
The killer was strange. It was highly likely that they were dealing with a serial killer, due to how alike and close together the two crimes were. The killer wasn't removing "practical" parts of the body--for example, if it was about cannibalism, a head wouldn't have been the target--and they weren't taking anything too sentimental; arms were faceless, connectionless things that belonged to everyone. What was special about this man's arms? That man's head? What would be taken next, if the killer were to strike again, and why?  
  
Oh.  _Oh._  
  
Chinen had to immediately force the contents of his stomach back down his throat, swallowing harshly, the realization rising in him like bile. He clutched at his assistant's shirtsleeve, swaying slightly. Yabu looked at him in concern.  
  
"Chinen? Are you okay?"  
  
"The killer... They're taking separate body parts because they're seeing things--people--that have parts that they like and taking them for themselves. I think... I sincerely hope I'm wrong, but I think they're building a human."  
  
  
  
  
It was like shopping, Inoo mused as he got in his car, fastening his seat belt. When he had gone to greet his creation in the works that morning, he realized with a slight sense of disappointment that really, despite how accomplished he felt, he still had a great deal of work to do. So today he was on a mission to get a torso, so the man on the bed could turn into a more solid, connected shape.  
  
The most difficult part of today's endeavor would be selecting what he wanted. He knew what kind of torso he was looking for--nothing too bulky, but definitely muscular--but he wasn't sure how to know what he was getting unless he could see it without the cover of clothing. He briefly considered attempting to go to the gym, but he hated those sweaty busy places. A swimming pool would be his best bet.  
  
Mid to late October meant that many of the swimming pools in the area were closed, Inoo having to take quite a drive to get to the indoor one outside his city. As soon as he entered the facility, he was rammed into by a tall and lanky figure.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man exclaimed, bowing rapidly once before speeding away with an excited giggle. Understandably confused, Inoo stood there for a moment, the explanation for the event running up seconds later.  
  
It was a short man with a smile on his face, swimming trunks on and a towel around his neck, calling out "Yuto! Wait!" as he ran past Inoo. He was exactly what Inoo wanted: muscle defined and present; strong, but not too thick and bulky. Inoo could not, by any means, let this man out of his sight.  
  
They were too loud to make it a difficult chase, giggling with each other and playing a childish sort of tag game on their way to the area of the pool. Just how in love they were was painfully obvious.  
  
Once in the swimming pool, Inoo wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He had no interest in swimming, and while watching this Yuto and his chest piece the entire time was both strange and dull, he had nothing else to do. So he sat on the edge of the pool and splashed his feet, waiting. Finally, the two ended their last splash fight and got out, drying off quickly and heading away to collect their things. Inoo did the same, discovering his quarry was named Ryosuke as he pulled a shirt over his head. He left to sit in his car, watching the exit. It wasn't until he saw the two men climb into the same car was it that Inoo felt annoyance poking at him insistently. He didn't have any use for Yuto, who at this point was turning into a complication. He just wanted to kill Ryosuke and take his chest in silence, was that too much to ask?  
  
Once the Yuto and Ryosuke's address had been discovered and written down, Inoo went out for some lunch. He would return later in the evening, hopefully when they were both asleep. He wasn't keen on creating extra casualties.  
  
Night had definitely fallen by the time Inoo had picked the front door open and stepped inside. He was buzzing with a silent energy as he crept through the house, trying as carefully as he could not to touch anything.  
  
Yuto was in a t-shirt and boxers, lying on top of the sheets one arm outstretched against the mattress. Ryosuke was curled into his side, head nuzzled under his arm. It was a rather domestic picture, but it wasn't what Inoo was looking at.  
  
Yuto's legs were gloriously long, muscular but not at all bulky; strong calves, rounded kneecaps, and solid, lean thighs. It would be blasphemous to let such wonderful legs go to waste. But they weren't his intention of being here, so he would only get them if he had time.  
  
Waking them would be dangerous--both were obviously strong and cared about each other enough to be problematic--so Inoo retrieved the "just in case" drug-soaked rag from his bag, holding it firmly over Ryosuke's mouth and nose. The man didn't stir or struggle at all, falling still and silent, Inoo slowly dragging him to the ground. Strangling someone when they were unconscious was infinitely easier, he found.  
  
So engrossed in his task, Inoo didn't realize the consequences of turning on the bone saw to sever the spine until after the fact, a sleepy, confused murmur coming from the bed.  
  
"Ryosuke?"  
  
Murmuring curses, Inoo turned just in time to meet eyes with a bleary Yuto. He stared at Inoo in confusion, as if he was unsure that Inoo was real and in front of him. Recognition sparked, making his brows furrow deeper.  
  
"You're the guy..." He trailed off as he saw what Inoo had behind him, the mangled body of his boyfriend. The scream from his lips made Inoo jump in surprise, lurching to his feet.  
  
"Ryosuke! RYOSUKE!" Scrabbling for his bag, Inoo got a handle on his knife just as Yuto leapt from the bed, grabbing his cell phone from the bedside table.  
  
Inoo lunged, knocking the device from his hands immediately. He stabbed for Yuto's chest but the man held his hands up, the blade catching on a few of his fingers and making him cry out.  
  
It was a struggle. The man was hysterical and strong, wrestling to keep Inoo away from him as he let out unrestrained choking sobs. If not for his grief and shock he may have overpowered Inoo, but finally Inoo was able to bury the knife in the man's chest and kick his legs out from under him. It was over after that. Yuto fought until his last breath, and when he finally stilled Inoo had to stop and sit for a few moments, chest heaving, heart beating rapidly. That had been unnecessarily exhausting.  
  
Once both the torso and legs had been wrapped cleanly and set next to his bag, Inoo was faced with a dilemma. He had always moved the bodies from the fire purposefully, out of respect more than anything, but at the same time he had never had a physical struggle before, and had no idea how much of him was now on Yuto's clothes and skin, and under his fingernails. It was impossible to scrub down everything. He didn't like the way the gasoline splashed on the skin but it was necessary, the fire alarm going off before he was out of the driveway.  
  
  
  
  
This time, the scene was very different. There were still missing body parts, still an evidence destroying fire, but this time the victims had also been in the room of the fire, and one of them--the man with no legs--had self-defense wounds on his hands and arms. He had fought back.  
  
Chinen had been filled with a sick sort of relief when he had seen both of the bodies in the room. If his theory was correct--and the missing torso and lower half from the victims all but proved it--then the body would be built. The killer how had everything he needed: a head, arms, upper body, and the waist down. Nobody else was going to die for this individual's twisted idea of a person.  
  
At least, that's what Chinen thought until something next to the charred bedside table caught his eye, and he quickly asked Yabu for a pair of latex gloves.  
  
Almost completely under the bed were a blistering, burnt pair of feet.  _Feet._  
  
"Oh, god." Yabu took a step back. "That's..."  
  
There were many body parts lying around the room, sure; the lower and upper halves of two men next to each other in some twisted, backwards picture, with the unnecessary parts of the man without a torso arranged carefully, almost respectfully, near the body. But these feet were just strewn out of the way, almost as a disgusted afterthought, or as though the killer had forgotten about them. Chinen doubted the second idea, however; someone with hands this precise didn't forget anything.  
  
"There's going to be another." Chinen said. It was frustrating. The victims didn't have any connections to each other except for their age and gender, so there was no one they could protect, and there were no major suspects to follow. "We still don't have any leads."  
  
"Actually," Yabu had a surprisingly optimistic tone of voice for someone that was taking severed feet and placing them in a plastic bag. "Takaki's family has just completed questioning. They all checked out clean, so tomorrow we can bring in Takaki's boyfriend, Inoo Kei. Maybe he'll have some new information for us."  
  
Chinen nodded. That was true. One of Takaki's brothers had reported that Takaki was headed out for a date the last time they saw him, leaving their family card game early, making Inoo Kei the last person to see Takaki alive. Chinen had high hopes for the kind of insight Inoo could give.  
  
"We'll knock on his door first thing in the morning." he said.  
  
  
  
  
Inoo was  _furious._  
  
The police had come to his house a few days previously--an abnormally short man standing next to an abnormally tall one--asking him to come down for questioning about the disappearance of Takaki Yuya. He wasn't under suspicion, the detective said, but Inoo was able to see that opinion change the longer he was there. It had been difficult to answer questions about Takaki, it had been difficult to be sad and shocked then he was told of Takaki's murder, and it had been impossible to think of an alibi, so Inoo simply said that he had felt sick, the date ended early, and he went home. To an empty apartment, with no one to vouch for his statement.  
  
Upon coming home, Inoo was ready to connect to the torso and legs to the rest of the body. He would be finally finished. That wasn't the case either. When he unwrapped the legs, he discovered that he had been so focused on legs, legs, legs, and so shaken up by the physical encounter that he had only taken from the waist down and the ankles up, taking the bloody stumps and unknowingly leaving the feet behind.  
  
So he had to go get a pair, finding a tall young man that was walking out down the street at night. He did everything carelessly, underestimating just how much the stranger would want to hold on to his life, getting a split lip and a bump on the head for his efforts. But he had been successful, and now he was looking down at a fully constructed man, resisting the urge to scream in frustration.  
  
All he could see when he looked down at the body on the bed was Takaki Yuya.  
  
He knew that it wasn't Takaki, that the part of the man that was Takaki--the head--was one of the smallest parts of him. That didn't change the fact that it was one of the most identifiable. And the fact that he had known Takaki personally made it even worse. All of Inoo's personal opinions about him, his personality, his dull idiocy, were projected on to the still form on the bed. Takaki was not the perfect man. Inoo needed to change something.  
  
Too angry to be careful enough, Inoo took his scalpel and removed a circle of flesh, exposing his teeth. He would replace Takaki's lips. The lips that he had held conversations with, that had pressed hot kisses to his skin. He didn't need them.  
  
Without wasting another second, Inoo shrugged on a coat and stepped out the door. He needed new lips--a lovely, perfect smile to place on Takaki's beautiful face. Surely, after he had that, everything would be perfect.  
  
He didn't have to walk long. He was glancing around, hands in his pockets, when someone caught his eye through a window. It was a man in a bakery, standing behind the cash register and thanking a customer for coming. His face radiated sunshine, lips big and full and pink.  
  
Inoo turned on his heel and walked inside, going straight up to the counter. The man was surprised by his actions, giving him an uncertain grin. He opened his mouth, but Inoo spoke first.  
  
"Excuse me, I saw you smiling from through the window and had to ask. When do you get off work?"  
  
"Uh..." The man glanced at the wall clock. The name tag on his apron read "Arioka Daiki". "My shift ends at two, why?"  
  
"I would love to take you out for a cup of coffee."  
  
"Oh." Arioka smiled and looked down, obviously flattered. "I would like that, I think."  
  
"Excellent. I'll be back at two." With a small grin and a wave, Inoo left as quickly as he had come in, replacing his hands in his pockets.  
  
_Score._  
  
  
  
  
Chinen knew that the culprit was Inoo Kei. He just knew it. Everything about him had just been suspicious in a way he couldn't put his finger on.  
  
He hadn't seemed very sad--or emotional at all, really--about the death of his boyfriend. It had barely been over a week since he died, and though sure, they had only been on two dates, but the way that Takaki Yuya's older brother had talked about the two of them suggested that there was a significant amount of affection, at least on Takaki's end. That had to have meant something to Inoo Kei. Inoo was the last person to have seen Takaki alive and didn't have an alibi, the exact formula for being guilty.  
  
Chinen just couldn't prove it. He was trying to research Inoo Kei's past, find out something, anything, about him that could help the investigation. He had stayed the night at headquarters, pouring over evidence and crime scene photos with Yabu until the older man had declared he was going to bed. Chinen hadn't been able to stop and turn his brain off. Sleep was impossible when there was someone this psychotic out and about.  
  
Yabu ran into his office, sounding out of breath and excited, Chinen looking up from his computer screen immediately. All the assistant managed to say was "A body, there's a hair--" before Chinen jumped to his feet and followed.  
It was a first year university student named Morimoto Ryutaro, a tall, brown haired young man, and as Chinen expected, his feet were missing. He was out in an alleyway, and the way he had been killed was rather sloppy in comparison, bruises and other self-defense wounds littering his body. Was the killer becoming careless?  
  
He had been stripped of all his clothes except his underwear, the fabric things in an ashen pile next to his head. Chinen didn't want to look at him, sick and tired of all the death, turning his attention to Yabu instead.  
  
"You said there was a hair? Whose?"  
  
Yabu nodded. "It's not Morimoto's," he declared, holding up a plastic bag and handing it to Chinen. Sure though, there was a single hair inside, long and wavy and black.  
  
"Inoo. Inoo Kei." Chinen recognized it immediately. "I knew it was him, I knew--"  
  
"We have to put it through DNA testing and make sure it is his before we can arrest him." Yabu said, taking the evidence back. "But for what it's worth, I agree with you."  
  
Chinen sighed. He didn't want to wait any longer, but it was necessary.  
  
"At least nobody else is going to die, right?" Yabu said, placing a hand on Chinen's shoulder. "If you were right, they have an entire body now. There's no need for anyone to be killed."  
  
They were wrong. A day later, the police were called down to an apartment. Twenty-three year old Arioka Daiki, and when Chinen asked the other officers there what it was that the killer had taken, they just shook their heads, mouths closed.  
  
As per usual, the front room was burnt up, an open door leading into the bedroom. The victim was dressed nicely and lying on his back, arms folded respectively over his chest. As soon as they saw his face Chinen recoiled, Yabu rushing out of the room with a hand over his mouth.  
  
His lips were gone, cut away from his face, the gaping hole revealing partly open white teeth and a tongue.  
  
The killer still wasn't finished.  
  
  
  
  
For the first time since the perfect man had started to come together, Inoo was feeling regretful. Daiki had been a spectacular person--they had gone out to lunch together, as Inoo had promised, at a quiet little coffee house, and sometimes Daiki was so cute that Inoo nearly felt like it was a real date, without any ulterior motives at all.  
  
But every time Daiki smiled, every time his face lit up with pure, bright energy, it brought Inoo back. He needed that smile; he needed it more than he felt he needed anything else in his life. So he thanked Daiki honestly for a wonderful afternoon, promising to see him again soon. And he did, a few hours later, holding a chloroform-soaked cloth to Daiki's mouth until he fell limp.  
  
Inoo didn't usually take pleasure in the task of killing and slicing up the men he choose, per se, but this time he had genuinely disliked it. He nearly stopped twice, but his project wasn't finished, and he needed perfection. He couldn't just get anyone off the street, not for a part this important; no other pair of lips would do if he knew that a smile this bright already existed.  
  
The smile looked different now though, skin pinched and red around the edges, unnaturally shaped. Inoo tried not to feel his growing disappointment, tried to convince himself that the man would look better in the morning. There was still one more thing Inoo needed.  
  
While on the date, Inoo couldn't help but notice that the waiter that had served them had the most beautiful hands that he had ever seen. Every joint was perfection, and Inoo's only and overwhelming thought upon seeing them was  _I have to have those._  So tomorrow he was stopping by the coffee shop before it opened, creeping around back, and waiting until the man with the name tag reading "Yaotome Hikaru" showed up for work.  
  
He had already removed the guitarists hands, the appendages lying in the trash can next to the foot of the bed. The body would look better with the new hands, he convinced himself. More put together. Closer to perfection. Placing a kiss on Daiki's lips, Inoo turned off the lamp in the room, smiled, and got ready for bed.  
  
  
  
  
Chinen let out a sigh as he stepped from his car. It was too early in the morning to be awake, especially with only four hours of sleep in his system, but that was all the sleep he had managed to get. After lying in bed and trying to go back to dreamland for over an hour he had given up, deciding to get some coffee and head down to HQ.  
  
It was the coffee shop he went to every morning, greeted with a smile by Yaotome Hikaru, a waiter he had become friends with. Hikaru had helped him in various ways all throughout college, giving him free latte refills and holding the coffee house open later than he was supposed to just to give advice and critiques on his essays. He recognized Chinen's exhaustion at once.  
  
"Tough at the office?" He asked, preparing Chinen's usual. Chinen nodded.  
  
"There's a psycho running around and slicing people up." Chinen said. "We managed to get evidence on him two bodies ago, but..." Chinen took the cup offered to him. "There are six people dead. Six. I should have done better."  
  
"This is your first case, isn't it? You will get better." Hikaru gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You'll solve this one, and every case after this one too. Don't give up."  
  
Though Chinen appreciated the uplifting speech, it wasn't really what he wanted to hear at the moment. What he wanted to hear were the results of the DNA testing, which were supposed to come in at any time today.  
  
Saying he would be right back, Hikaru disappeared into the kitchen of the coffee house. When it had been fifteen minutes and Hikaru wasn't back, Chinen decided that he wasn't done ranting his stresses to his older friend, going to look for him.  
  
The kitchen was empty. Chinen glanced around, confused, heart dropping into his stomach when he saw a cast iron skillet on the kitchen floor, tile under it smudged with a red smear. Blood, a sparsely splattered trail of it leading out the back door.  
  
No.  _No._  
  
Chinen ran after it, hiding behind a corner of the building. It was Hikaru, either unconscious or dead, being dragged by his arms to a little white car in the parking lot behind the coffee house, next to the dumpsters. The person holding his arms and tugging was none other than Inoo Kei.  
  
At that moment his cell phone rang, making him mutter out curses as he reached into his pocket to silence it. It was Yabu.  
  
"The results are in, and the DNA matches to a saliva sample found on the back of Arioka Daiki's hand. You were right, it is Inoo Kei!"  
  
"I know." Chinen said softly, watching Inoo toss something into the dumpster before opening a side door on his car. "And about that Yabu, listen; I need you to meet me at Inoo's apartment complex, alright? Come armed, and bring a gun for me too. As quickly as you can."  
  
"Yes, sir. Can I ask why?"  
  
"He has Hikaru." As soon as Inoo got behind the wheel of his car, Chinen retreated back into the coffee house, heading to his own vehicle. "I'm not going to let him kill anyone else."  
  
"Yes sir." Yabu's voice had risen in pitch, sounding thin and nervous. Chinen watched as Inoo's car came around the coffee house and started down the road, then followed. All he could do was hope Hikaru was alive.  
  
That seemed likely by the way Hikaru was able to stumble out Inoo's car by the time they were in the apartment's parking garage, too dazed or drugged to do anything but let Inoo lead him to the elevator. Chinen went to the staircase, bounding up them two at a time. When he reached the top, Yabu was waiting for him.  
  
"Here."  
  
The gun was heavy and cold in his hand and he thanked Yabu, the two going to Inoo's closed apartment door.  
"Ready?" Chinen asked. Yabu looked the way Chinen himself felt--wide eyed, pale faced, gripping the handle of the gun much tighter than he needed to--but he nodded. Stomach churning, Chinen nodded back.  
  
"Now."  
  
Yabu shot a hole through the lock on the doorknob and Chinen yanked the door open, gun outstretched in front of him.  
  
The smell of rotting meat was so instant and strong that Chinen had to take a step back, choking on the air in his lungs. There was a figure crouched in the center of the room, who, despite the noise, hadn't looked up.  
  
Regaining his composure, Chinen walked around the couch slowly, gun pointed at the back of Inoo Kei's head, Yabu following behind. Hikaru was splayed out on a spread sheet of plastic wrap, eyelids fluttering. There was a deep cut on the top of Hikaru's wrist, skin broken and stark white bone peeking through. Inoo wasn't moving, scalpel poised in his hand, body quivering.  
  
"S-stop, drop the weapon and put your hands behind your head!" Yabu's voice was shaky with unshed tears, and it wasn't until he spoke that Inoo looked at them, head snapping in their direction at an almost inhuman speed, eyes wide.  
  
This was the face of a crazy man.  
  
One word fell from his lips, quiet but insistent.  
  
"No."  
  
"Do it now, or I'll shoot." Chinen said. Inoo's lips tilted into a smile, then he began to giggle, the noise high pitched, coming from the top of his throat.  
  
"You can't. I'm not finished."  
  
"Finished?" Yabu asked. Inoo jumped to his feet and lashed out at them with the scalpel, using their moment of floundering backwards to pull Hikaru to his feet, holding the man in front of himself.  
  
"My man. He isn't done yet." Inoo's eyes flicked to the room directly behind Chinen and Yabu. "I need these hands."  
  
"I'm not letting you kill that man." Chinen said firmly. Inoo giggled again, hiding his face in the nape of Hikaru's neck as he did so.  
  
"That's fine. I don't need to kill him." Inoo was edging along the wall, getting closer and closer to them.  
  
"He's trying to get to that door." Chinen said quietly to Yabu nudging his head in the direction of the closed door to their left. "Don't let him."  
  
Yabu nodded, lips set firmly. Chinen returned his attention to the killer in front of them.  
  
"Why don't you need to kill him?"  
  
The answer was said in such a matter-of-fact manner.  
  
"People can live without hands."  
  
"People can live without feet, and lips." Chinen said. "Why did you kill them?"  
  
"Can you imagine, living without a mouth?" Inoo asked back. "Would you want to carry out your existence with stumps at the end of your legs? What I did was kind."  
  
"That is not kindness." Yabu's voice was thick and extremely upset, tears welling in his eyes. Inoo took a large step towards the door, Chinen pulling the trigger on his gun and missing by barely an inch. He didn't want to shoot Inoo, not when he was holding Hikaru. Inoo just smiled at him, as though he knew that Chinen couldn't hurt him, taking another large step to his right.  
  
"I'm not finished. He's not finished. He needs to be complete. He needs to be perfect."  
  
"Stop!" Yabu yelled, gun going off. The bullet clipped Hikaru's shoulder, the waiter's body jerking and falling forwards. As soon as he was out of the line of fire Chinen pumped two more bullets in Inoo Kei's direction, the man collapsing against the wall. Yabu ran forward, catching Hikaru before the ground did.  
  
"Did you...shoot me?" Hikaru asked. Yabu nodded, and Hikaru wrapped his arms tightly around Yabu's shoulders.  
  
Hikaru was safe, Chinen feeling his shoulders slump. He let his gun fall to the floor, walking over and putting two fingers at Inoo's neck, checking his pulse.  
  
A hand snapped up, grabbing at Chinen's wrist. The fingers gripped so tightly that it hurt, Chinen letting out a shout, jumping backwards. A gunshot cracked through the air, Inoo's body jolting, fingers releasing him. The bullet had gone through his temple, Chinen turning to Yabu.  
  
"You okay?" His assistant asked. One arm was around Hikaru's torso, the other outstretched, gun in hand. Chinen nodded, heart pounding, rubbing his wrist.  
  
It was over now. Hikaru was safe, Inoo was dead, and the relief that surged through Chinen's veins was so strong that he closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. The image of Inoo Kei crouched over Hikaru's body filled his eyelids and he opened his eyes again, shaking his head rapidly.  
  
He took a few steps to his left, stopping to stand in front of the door Inoo had been trying to get to. That was where the horrifying smell was coming from, and Chinen almost didn't want to turn the doorknob, pushing the door open.  
  
It was a simply furnished room, every aspect of it wrapped in plastic wrap. The bed in the middle of the room immediately caught Chinen's attention, and what was on it was a sight that nearly turned his stomach inside out.  
  
A body was lying there, stitched together at the shoulders, neck, mouth, waist, and ankles, the skin of the different parts in various stages of purpling or yellowing. The torso, legs, arms, and neck had already begun to bloat and blister grotesquely, a fluid Chinen didn't want to think about pooling out of Takaki's ears. One stumped arm hung off of the mattress. It looked so strange, so unnatural and sickeningly disproportionate that it was almost clownish.  
  
Chinen didn't think he could consider this a successfully solved case. Six people lay in front of him in pieces, decaying; overall, seven were dead. But as he looked into the living room, seeing a teary Yabu rubbing circles on Hikaru's back, he knew it couldn't be counted as a failure either.  
  
Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, Chinen called headquarters.  
  
"Hey. Yabu and I are in Inoo Kei's apartment. Inoo has been killed, but we're going to need some help. Clean up is going to be a nightmare."


End file.
